Van Helsing: Memory and Redemption
by Eri Fides
Summary: Van Helsing struggles to rediscover his memory, which has fled him once again, and to earn redemption for his past mistakes.
1. Who Am I?

Van Helsing stared around him, curiously aware of the dullness of the scene that met his eyes. It was not dull in the sense that it was black and white, devoid of color. No, there was color. All around him were rolling, green hills and the sky was a pale blue with white wisps of clouds. No, he was painfully aware of the lack of something which had filled even black and white scenes such as this with beauty incomparable. As he sat on his knees wondering, he became slowly aware of another thing his world lacked. Memory. Oh, he was not devoid of any memory, hardly. After all, innately he had identified all the elements around him and, yes, even his name. Gabriel Van Helsing, whatever that meant. He stared down at his hands, covered by black, leather gloves. He yanked one glove off, discarding it in the tall, swaying grasses, and then the other followed. He fingered his palms, brow furrowed. What had these hands done? What had he accomplished? Where had he failed, for he knew innately that he had? Clenching one hand into a fist, he struck the ground, crushing blades of grass and denting the ground underneath. Yet, even this did not surprise him, for though he felt quite human he knew he was not ordinary. Grabbing his gloves and slipping them back on, he rose to his feet. Just ahead of him, he could see a small valley in which a black horse stood patiently. Throwing his pondering from him, he strode towards the horse, oblivious of time or distance. Reaching the horse, he mounted, his black coat flying about him awkwardly. Settling himself, he dug his heels into the horse's side and hung on, allowing the horse to choose the path to take. Scenery flew by him but he took little heed of it, staring between the horse's ears instead. The horse's mane whipped his face and his head itched where his black duster rested. Discomfort plagued him. This too seemed normal. He regarded his world so dispassionately that he did not even take note of the glares and hatred of the people he passed while galloping through a town, much less the town itself. In time his horse slowed to a canter and finally to a casual walk, catching its wind the best way it could when its rider did not care to dismount and rest. Sleep stole over Van Helsing and, though it was still early in the evening, he slumped in the saddle, scarcely aware that sleep had taken him far away.

_ Van Helsing watched the soldiers around him, noting the chi-rho on their shields. He marched with them, though they seemed to take no notice of him. As they neared the Milvian Bridge he could see Maxentius' army waiting for them, spread out in front of the bridge. Van Helsing worked his way to the front lines, passing casually between the lines despite Constantine's watchful eye. The two armies met and Van Helsing strode back and forth, protecting Constantine's army from the blows of the other army. As Constantine began to push Maxentius' army back, Van Helsing strode to the wooden bridge that spanned the destruction inflicted upon the stone Milvian Bridge. In the midst of the fleeing army Van Helsing strode onto the bridge and brought his blade down on it, causing its collapse._

Van Helsing woke abruptly to the sensation of falling and found himself being dragged off his horse to the cries of 'Murderer!'. Struggling vainly, he found himself stripped of any weapon to protect himself and flung his arms over his face. As makeshift weapons found their marks, Van Helsing's vision blurred and he finally blacked out, feeling no relief in the sensation.


	2. Refuge

Carl stepped out the door, closing it gently behind him. He shuffled forward and started to head down the steps, only to halt in shock. A bloody, crumpled man lay on the steps face-down with one hand extended, as if reaching for the top of the steps.

"Van Helsing!" Carl fled back into the building calling for help.

Van Helsing woke slowly, his limbs still heavy from deep sleep. Savoring the release from cold oblivion, he took a deep breath. He instantly regretted doing so, for pain ran sharply through his chest and sides. He dragged his eyes open, finding only a bland ceiling to meet his gaze. He started to sit up, only to have Carl appear and push him back down.

"You are not going to strain yourself this time, Van Helsing. Not after being beaten to a bloody pulp," Carl's eyes dared him to protest.

"And what makes you think I'll obey?" Van Helsing studied him curiously.

"You owe me for losing my inventions," Carl replied, rather sharply.

Van Helsing grimaced. "Fine," he yielded, "any idea what the next assignment will be?"

Carl shook his head. "It's always about assignments with you."

Van Helsing glared at him.

Carl raised his hands defensively. "I heard something about a demon. Other than that, I don't know."

Van Helsing nodded in satisfaction and laid his head back, staring at the ceiling.

Carl sighed. "You know if you keep throwing yourself towards the next assignment they'll forget you need rest and you'll never get a chance to work on your faith."

"I'm working on earning redemption, Carl."

Carl opened his mouth to reply, shook his head, and left the room.


	3. The Assignment

Van Helsing stared out over the remains of a razed village. He flexed his hand unconsciously, staring out with such intense emotion that for a moment he forgot everything he had been told and even the Vatican for a moment. In the back of his mind he felt that if anything could redeem him this could. Van Helsing left his horse and strode down into the little valley where the remains of the village were cradled. He stepped into the ruins hesitantly, chills running down his spine. Though he tried not to, he saw the blackened skeletons in the burnt ruins. He crossed himself until his arm hurt and still he continued. Reaching the center of the village, he stopped. He could feel an evil presence and he drew the holy sword Carl had provided. Seeking it out he turned and found a young woman watching him. She had raven hair and was dressed in a flowing black gown. It was Lilith. 

She regarded him passively. "You amuse me."

Van Helsing raised an eyebrow, keeping the sword firmly between himself and her.

"We two are so much alike yet," Lilith paused, smiling, "you know so very little, Van Helsing."

"We are nothing alike," Van Helsing replied, his eyes narrowing.

"On the contrary. We are both fallen. You simply wish to go back yet have not the knowledge how." She smiled seductively. "That is the only difference."

Van Helsing swung the sword at her. She stepped back and laughed.

"How you have changed since our last meeting, Gabriel. It cheers my spirit to see one such as yourself so destitute. You are a perfect reminder of how quick God is to turn away from his creation."

Van Helsing gritted his teeth and lunged. Lilith slipped to the side but he lashed out and caught her arm. She hissed in pain.

"You honestly think killing me will save you?"

Van Helsing paused.

"God won't accept you for simple deeds. He makes dead certain its harder than that."

Van Helsing lunged again, but this time she disappeared from his sight. He whirled and side-stepped. She just barely grazed his arm. He lashed out and caught her side only to be thrown to the ground. His breath left him and he lay there in surprise. She walked over and stared down at him with contempt.

"Really, Gabriel, I expected better of you. Falling into one of our traps like one of those simpleton humans." Lilith shook her head and kicked him into a wall.

He grunted softly. The air he had barely regained leaving him again. She pulled him up against the wall and punched him in the jaw. He heard the crack but his mind was elsewhere. She had forgotten about the sword. He had never let go. While she pummeled him, he used all his strength to pull the sword into a good angle and thrust it into her. She gasped, stared down at the sword, and released him, dropping to her knees. Van Helsing slumped against the wall as Lilith screamed in anger, the same way every single creature seemed to have to when he killed them. He watched as she slumped to the ground, dead. He crossed himself, struggled to his feet, and stumbled over. He grabbed the sword and staggered over towards his approaching horse. He sheathed the sword and dragged himself onto the horse, letting it carry him wherever it deemed to go.


	4. Starting Over

Carl stared down at an unconscious Van Helsing. Finding him like this again had been a mixed blessing. Van Helsing was alive but badly beaten. The Vatican had yet to know what came of the assignment that they sent him on. Though considering the fact that Carl's holy sword had been covered in blood up to the hilt when they found Van Helsing it was likely he had finished his assignment. Carl shook his head. He seriously doubted Van Helsing had learned anything from this encounter. 

Van Helsing groaned but didn't move. "Carl, what have you heard from the Vatican?"

"Van Helsing! You have to rest! How many times..."

"Carl, Shut up!" Van Helsing growled. "Just tell me."

Carl snapped his mouth shut and started over. "They have an assignment waiting. They always have an assignment waiting."

Van Helsing nodded slightly and Carl turned to leave.

"Tell them I'm not here or on vacation or something."

Carl froze. "What?!" He turned to look at Van Helsing.

"Don't sound so surprised, Carl. I had to learn my lesson sometime."

* * *

Van Helsing breathed in the fresh summer air and dismounted his horse. He took the saddle and bridle off the horse, dropped them unceremoniously on the ground, and let the horse roam free. He settled himself under a large oak and stared out over the beautiful rolling hills of the countryside. He hadn't realized how much he was missing until he left the Vatican on something other than an assignment. He pulled out a Bible he had borrowed from Carl and settled down to do some heavy reading. 


End file.
